Harry Potter and the Devious Plan
by Foof
Summary: Sequel to 'Draco Malfoy and the Devious Plan.' This is Harry's revenge. SLASH


Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual. I cannot be blamed for the silliness of this fic.

This is the sequel to _Draco Malfoy and the Devious Plan._

**Warning:** Contains my warped sense of humour...oh yeah, and some **slash**y goodness.

**Harry Potter and the Devious Plan**

The thing about being hauled up and cornered in an empty corridor on a particularly blustery Friday evening by one Harry Potter is that you should _not_ be excited... in any way. You just shouldn't.

Yet Draco felt his heart quicken as soon as he stepped off the staircase, his eyes falling on a lone Harry Potter standing stock still in the middle of the hall, hands in his pocket, no robe to speak of and his shirt gaping open in _just_ the right places.

Yes, Harry Potter was_ hot_. There was no denying it but what made Draco nearly give a whimper of need was when he heard a low rumble from behind him and the staircase shifted, effectively trapping him and cutting off any escape route and he would have been bothered if he actually wanted an escape route. But he didn't and now he was thrust quite gloriously into the clutches of The Golden One.

He knew he shouldn't be feeling exhilarated or roused or positively tumultuous but he was and he _could_ have been sickened at the thought _if_ he was capable of rational thought. And when Potter sauntered closer to him, a predatory gleam in his vivid eyes it caused him to suck in a sharp breath and he _could_ have blanched at his actions... if he wanted to.

Then it came, that feeling of fear that fused with his pent up excitement, swilling through his veins in an almost pleasurable way and the adrenalin hit like a slap to the face, leaving him almost breathless.

It wasn't that Draco was _scared. _He was definitely _not_ scared. But ever since he had carried out his oh-so-Devious Plan he had a gut feeling that Potter knew _exactly_ how Draco felt about him. None of those pretend feelings either. He had a definite inkling that Potter knew about the real deal feelings. The lust, the wanting, the whole shahbang. 

He hadn't intentionally let it happen but he knew he'd slipped up when he let that small moan escape him when had sat back and taken in the glorious view that so perfectly filed his line of vision.

But _really_, who in their right mind _wouldn't_ groan when faced with such a thing?

His gut feelings were pretty much confirmed by that predatory gaze he was currently being fixed with and there were no doubts that Potter knew exactly what he was doing to Draco's nether regions.

Potter seemed to have stopped a few metres away some time during Draco's self-absorbed musings and Draco couldn't help closing the gap between them. He was drawn to Potter, he always had been and it was almost like he was being beckoned forward.

His legs did the thinking and he was there, right in front of him, his eyes drinking in the view.

"You shouldn't wander through empty corridors by yourself you know?" Potter said casually, hands still in his pockets.

"Why not?" Draco's voice was hoarse and Potter smirked, actually _smirked_, at him.

"Because it's very likely you'll run into me."

"And why is that so bad?" Potter's eyes flickered wildly and he took a step forward, his chest touching tantalizingly with Draco's and he leant forward, his lips inches from Draco's ear.

"Because, _Draco_, you never know what I'll do... what I _can_ do." His breath ghosted over Draco's lobe, tickling the hair on his neck and he gulped. 

Yes, Potter knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He was undoing the clasp on the Slytherin's robe, pushing the material off his shoulders where it fell to the ground in a pool at his feet and Draco knew exactly what Potter _could_ do. He could undress a Slytherin without the bat of an eyelid. How incredibly... _sexy_.

Then his back was up against a wall before he had time to think and a hot, wet tongue swept over the skin of his neck in a slow, upward motion and the low groan that erupted in the air around them couldn't have possibly come from Draco... could it?

"We're in a corridor." Draco stated distractedly. 

"How observant of you." He could feel Potter's husky voice on his jawline.

"But-" Draco's protest at being accosted in a very public place was abruptly cut off as Potter closed his mouth over his. But Potter withdrew all to soon in Draco's opinion, but on the upside, he did have his voice back.

"You can't shut me up with kisses."

"I can try." And lips were pressed into his once more and all Draco could do was mumble "arrogant prat" into the welcoming mouth.

"I think it worked incredibly well, don't you?" Potter asked smugly, his hands running over Draco's sides, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face that didn't suit him one little bit.

Ignoring the question, Draco pressed on with more important matters, his mind too clouded with lust to even comprehend _why_ Potter was doing this so he stated simply, "We are still in a corridor. Do you really want to be seen doing this?"

"I'm partial to a bit of voyeurism." He shrugged dismissively and such words uttered in that sinful voice seemed to bring Draco's little friend down below to even more attention than what he was standing at before. "And besides, you know what fanfics are like." Draco nodded gravely. He certainly did know, he felt like quite the porn star. "And this author wants a hot and bothered Draco being ravished up against a wall in an empty corridor, so a hot and bothered Draco in an empty corridor is what she's gonna to get. You don't wanna get on the wrong side of these authors, I hear they're quite insane."

Draco gave a pout, picturing himself quite nicely spread on his four-poster, preparing himself while Potter watched on with a lustful gaze (apparently he was into a bit of voyeurism), but resigned himself to being ravished up against the wall instead. After all, he couldn't have it _all_ could he? Even if he was a Malfoy.

Draco's shirt was ripped open by steady hands, quite sufficiently distracting him from the fact that they were in a hallway where anyone could amble by and see them. A hot mouth closing over his nipple certainly helped things along and he found his hands instantly drawn to a mop of black hair, urging the Gryffindor on with the soft mewling noises he was emitting. 

Yes, Draco Malfoy did indeed like being ravished against a wall by Harry Potter. In fact, he had absolutely no objections what so ever when he felt Potter's hips thrusting slowly against him, his already alert member reacting to the more than welcome ministrations. 

"Mmmm hmmm Potter." Which translated from Hot and Bothered Draco Language to English means "Potter, get your mouth off my chest and back up here". And it was very handy that Potter was adept in this language as he was very quickly devouring Draco's mouth once more, tongues battling in a perverted version of a wizard's duel.

Potter's hands were trailing dangerously low, his fingers tracing circles over the blonde's hips, dipping his fingers just below the waistband, just enough to tease and Potter nibbling nicely on his bottom lip, accompanied with the insane teasing going on down below was almost too much.

"Oh Gods, Potter!" He gasped into the Gryffindor's open mouth, arms clinging to the boy like his was scared of falling down. Which was a very likely possibility if Potter kept up with the teasing. But he decided he wasn't going to fall down, he wouldn't give the Boy-Who-Lived the title of the Boy-Who-Made-Draco-Fall-Down-From-His-Teasing-Ministrations. That would be just too much and rather long in the headlines.

"Say my name," Potter whispered in his ear, hot breath sweeping over him. But he wouldn't, _couldn't_ say it. There were some things Malfoy's wouldn't do and it just so happened that being Harry Potter's bitch was one of them. Although, Draco thought as Potter's tongue traced his ear lobe, that occupation would have it's many perks.

"Say it." His voice was firmer this time and Draco managed a shake of his head. "Say it." Potter withdrew all contact and Draco couldn't help the disappointed groan that escaped him.

Draco watched the Gryffindor, pleading him with his eyes to return all contact immediately, but Potter obviously hadn't dabbled much in eye reading as he stayed resolutely where he was.

"Say it. Now." 

Silence.

"Say my name, before I have to break into the dance routine from the Destiny's Child video clip. I swear, you don't wanna hear me sing."

The Slytherin's eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion, seriously wondering if Potter had gone temporarily insane. It was very possible, he mused. I mean, being faced with someone as devilishly sexy as his good self was enough to turn anyone's mind to mush.

Then hands were thrust unceremoniously into his pants, taking his ever-hardening length into a firm hold and a distinctly "Haaaarrryyyy" like sound gurgled in the back of this throat, something he very much regretted but couldn't do much about as he was being stroked so nicely and....ohhh GODS!

"Hmm much better." The Gryffindor said, his voice sliding through the air and Draco shuddered at the sensation. This was good. Very good. Very _very_ good. He didn't know Potter would be so good at hand jobs. He'd hoped, in the very unlikely event that he'd be on the receiving end of one, but this was just too good! 

Potter's thumb was circling the head, rubbing copious amounts of pre-cum up and down his length and he was close, oh so very close and he wondered briefly if his knees would give out when he came but all train of thought was severed as Potter's hands were abruptly removed form the front of his trousers.

"What the-" He started his protest but found a pair of lips pressed against his for a quick kiss before he was faced with amused green eyes. Draco didn't know eyes could laugh at you, but it was all there, right in front of him, and Draco was good at eye reading.

"See ya round Draco." Potter said brightly before traipsing off down the hall leaving a thoroughly hot and bothered Draco Malfoy in his wake.

**End.**


End file.
